


the other side

by kinpika



Series: signed, sealed, delivered [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery
Genre: Barnaby had good intentions to defend Natasha's honour, But not the best way to go about it, Drama™, of course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 08:04:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16761217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinpika/pseuds/kinpika
Summary: Pushing himself up, Charlie was almost unsurprised that he had found the floor. It’s when he looks up, gingerly touching his nose, that he notices a rather flushed friend, wand pointed quite firmly at his face.“Episky!”said with more force than was necessary, Natasha snaps his nose back into place. Not at all the usual bedside manner he had come to expect, and she’s already moving on.





	the other side

**Author's Note:**

> Happens before [so this was done](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16761148/chapters/39325177). That part where Charlie damn near got his arm cursed off.

There is, perhaps, a ten second warning given.

Charlie doesn’t try to count the seconds, of course, because that would be ridiculous. After all, who would have anticipated what would follow next, as the Gryffindor team walked behind him, all rather pleased with the training. Lots of talking and laughter, bags slung over shoulders kind of manner, through the courtyard with not much else thought given.

It’s the curious “Barnaby?” that had really begun the countdown. The way he starts off with a smile, at the sight of his friend, but only turns to a frown when he notices the way Barnaby and a few fellow Slytherins seem to stalk down the path. They all looked positively murderous, and well. It was coming up to the beginning of games. It had been expected on all sides for some sort of sabotage to play out — Charlie had been warned about this sort of thing. Except, he had expected something in his pumpkin juice, not an upfront attack.

And that was the thing about Slytherins: they were, in the end, quite obtuse about pack mentality. Oh, one or two acting off on their own thing was to be expected, almost relied upon. Even diminishing each other’s efforts could be seen, sometimes, in the Great Hall, all before breakfast. But at the end of the day, they worked _together_. Moved together, shoulders squared, eyes fierce. Charlie recognises a few, some from their year, another couple from the year below, but time moves slow. Ten seconds, that’s all Charlie had.

There’s a wave of the wand, showers of sparks filling the air. Suddenly everything moves too fast, and Charlie can’t find his wand fast enough. Others were faster, firing back spells just as quick as they were moving towards him. Barely moving his arm out of the way, ignoring the sheer thought at what that would _mean_ for him, Charlie doesn’t see the sudden looming figure. 

Not fast enough to get his nose out of the way of Barnaby’s fist. A crunch, excruciating and loud, is the only sound out, before bags meet the floor. Shouts, Charlie can’t pinpoint where from, resound, and whilst he was sure there were some fellows jumping in to defend his honour, quite frankly, Charlie just wanted to defend his nose from any further harm. He can’t, however, when the second fist connects, cementing that cracking noise for what it was. 

With a shout, equal amounts pain and anger, Charlie finally manages a: “Barnaby, what the _hell_?!”

It’s enough to have him swing back, a little wildly, but catching Barnaby in the cheek. Grunts, throws him back, only for Barnaby to duck his head and wrap his arms around Charlie’s middle. Whatever it is that was driving Barnaby, he wasn’t going to say. Perhaps, just absolutely pummel the shit out of Charlie for it instead. And if Charlie were being a little honest, he wasn’t going to take that lying down. Threading his fingers together, draws his joined hands up and brings them down, hard, on Barnaby’s back. Enough times that he’s finally let go, stumbles away. 

If Charlie says anything, he doesn’t know what. Every word that leaves his mouth is a mix between a curse and just repeating Barnaby’s name. Getting a little woozy now, anyway. Too much blood pumping, and Charlie wipes his nose with his hand once more. Wand, needed his wand, needed to stop the bleeding. 

Not fast enough. Barnaby gets him, before Charlie gets his wand out. Has him by the front of his shirt, held up, free hand pulled back. Charlie wasn’t unfamiliar with the odd bought of hand to hand combat (he _did_ have brothers — and a sister — after all), but those were little scrambles. Often finished with a ‘don’t tell mum!’ when someone finally cried. His brain had switched off, as out the corner of his eye, he could see Barnaby’s fist drawing closer. 

“ _Depulso!_ ”

Charlie doesn’t shut his eyes, but he sure as hell didn’t expect to be yanked hard, left. There’s a shout, several of them, and it’s pure wonder as a few other Slytherins seem to shoot through the air, landing awkwardly on stone.

His ears ring, or maybe it was just quiet once again. Charlie couldn’t quite tell, as the world was spinning a little more than it should’ve, anyway. Blurred at the edges, when he sees some legs run past, hears muffled voices but not understanding the words. How pathetic was he, only getting one good hit in. But he must admit, Barnaby could throw a damn fine punch when he needed to.

Pushing himself up, Charlie was almost unsurprised that he had found the floor. It’s when he looks up, gingerly touching his nose, that he notices a rather flushed friend, wand pointed quite firmly at his face.

“ _Episky!”_ said with more force than was necessary, Natasha snaps his nose back into place. Not at all the usual bedside manner he had come to expect, and she’s already moving on. 

Wand still held out, pointed rather dangerously at the rest of the Slytherins. Most dominantly at Barnaby, who held his head in his hands. Charlie can’t quite make out the words, but he rolls his head to see several younger students huddled in a corner. Oh, well, that was fantastic. He hadn’t realised they’d drawn such an audience.

A few hands come to help him to his feet, just as several others did the same for Barnaby. Charlie catches the shrill “ten points from each of you! And twenty from _you_ , Barnaby!” with which Natasha ends with a wave, “ _Ferula_ ,” and one Slytherin finding their arm bound. 

“Take them to Madam Pomfrey. And if she asks, tell them the _real_ story.” A few nods, a few people pushing away and walking themselves. Only two others linger by Natasha, clearly just as unimpressed, if a little concerned, with how they seemed to stare at their prefect out the corner of their eyes. 

Charlie swears he hears he mumble of ‘fucking idiots’, before Natasha turns her attention back to him. An eye quickly sweeps over them all. “You should see Madam Pomfrey as well.” 

Another swish, and bandages find their way around the fingers of Humphrey. She’s not looking at him, not really, and Charlie finds that his vision is just a fraction clearer now, to note that her eyes were rather red and swollen, as if she had been crying. 

“ _Tergeo_ ,” a mumble this time, pointed at the dried blood. Holding steady, despite how Natasha’s voice almost gave her away. 

Knows he should say something. Thank you, at the very least. But what was there to say? That this was the end result, of whatever they were? Getting jumped by Slytherins in the courtyard? Charlie wanted to believe she hadn’t orchestrated it, considering she and several others had ultimately hit back at their peers and were now administering the lighter healing spells, but that thought lingered. And it was vile, built on stereotypes he had seen broken time and time again. Those thoughts shoved into his head, by Gryffindors who scowled over the fire, by the way professors seemed to pause too long on the green, and even by his family at home, with the way mum and dad used to (still do) sigh, over that Slytherin girl.

But summer was long gone, a mere passing thought when forced into social situations together. An ‘I told you so’, that his brain had delivered when they’d come back, and Natasha had locked up. Where conversations went nowhere, and everything went cold. Charlie could still remembering the spattering of freckles on her shoulders, and the way her hair curled up to her ears when it was wet. 

A cruel remark had left him, the week before. About her _reputation_ being more important. That she couldn’t be seen with just _any_ Gryffindor, but _especially not_ Bill Weasley’s little brother. Brought up out of spite, when the tension had come to a head. Natasha had some choice things to say too, ones that cut deep and still hurt. About his insecurities, the lingering fears, things he had confessed in the quiet. They had provided each other with ammunition, and Charlie wanted to take it back — but he didn’t want the others to play messenger, to go running between and say that Natasha regretted it, too. Charlie swallows thickly. They needed to talk. 

When her wand pulls away, Charlie sees something, despite it all. Bill told him that they were just being idiots, the both of them, that neither was as good as the other. That they were both at fault. Apologise, apologise, _apologise_. Charlie had read the letters from Natasha, the ones from the year before. How she had lamented Charlie as being ‘too thick’ to realise how she felt. How he took up most of the parchment, and squiggles at the bottom only seemed to actually ask Bill about his work. Almost like they had been purposely left out for him to read. 

For half a second, he sees that look, with how Natasha softens. How the tears seem to press at the corners of her eyes once again, threatening to spill.

Charlie can’t follow that look, except with pure wonder. She turns, walking away. Thanking some students who had gone running for her, apparently, the moment they’d heard about the ‘plan of attack’. Whatever had happened, had passed, and there’s a slow walk towards the infirmary, one that manages to leave the entire team in silence. One that leaves Charlie with just as many questions as answers. 


End file.
